Destination : Undecided
by AgeAndRicchanOwnYourSouls
Summary: An Italian, a Frenchman, a Russian, a Canadian, an American, a Spaniard, a a Hungarian, an Englishman, an Islander, and a so-called Prussian. How much goddamn liquor are we gonna need for this? Lots. England/Seychelles Prussia/Canada Spain/Romano. R&R.
1. Chapter 1: OptimismPessimism

**Hey there, guys! How you all doin', hmmm?~ From some miracle of fate, you were able to find this little fanfiction within the snarls of thousands of other Axis Powers Hetalia stories, so congrats, our hats off to you! Please remember to review/favourite/alert/subscribe to this story if you like it, or are even the slightest bit interested in it! This chapter may be a bit of a slow start, but it's needed to sort of introduce our dear heroine and for you to understand the circumstances in which this fanfiction was born. So without any further delay, enjoy!**

**-Miharu and Mitsuki**

Chapter One: Optimism-Pessimism

"Artists just starting out tend to have an incredibly low if not nonexistent salary for their artwork, and are usually only able to make ends meet by working a few part-time jobs, doing art in their spare time. If an artist is able to find a good opportunity to sell their art to a collector or find a job that commissions art in their line of expertise, they have the potential to make around twenty-thousand to seventy-thousand dollars a year, though this does not occur frequently or easily. Sometimes artists suffer in poor conditions for years before their art takes off, and some artists' work never takes off at all. Studies show—"

Well if she didn't know the first seventy times she'd read that opening paragraph on her laptop about the success of art students after college, she certainly knew now. She knew that she wanted to strangle that damn paragraph in the hypothetical neck. Seychelles gritted her teeth, slammed her laptop shut and stared huffily out the window, telling herself that if she kept rereading that article, of course she'd get angry, of course she'd feel discouraged, and yet… Seychelles stared sideways at the laptop, as if making direct eye contact with it would condemn her to a life worse than death. Which was impossible, but nonetheless…

"Damnit, Seychelles," She muttered scoldingly to herself, a habit in which her grandfather had pointed out should be broken soon lest she be mistaken for a schizophrenic, "You are on a goddamn plane to England, and you are going to England because you want to go to art college, and you want to go to art college because you want to be an artist, and you want to be an artist because _you know that you can do it. So just do it._"

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… Seychelles sighed deeply, resting her chin on both intertwined hands. Who was she fooling, anyway? For the millionth time since she'd woken up that morning, a sinking feeling overcame her, and she had to close her eyes. She felt her senses dull, but she could vaguely hear a female voice announcing to the passengers that they would be landing soon through the misty half-asleep state she was in. That, however, was not enough to keep her awake, and after what seemed like a precious few moments of wonderful sleep, Seychelles awoke to a slight nudging sensation on her shoulder. Her eyelids lifted slightly, and she looked to her shoulder to see a gentle hand much paler than her own resting on top of it. She jumped slightly, her eyes travelling upward to the owner of the hand's face. She looked around again to see that all of the passengers were in the midst of or already had vacated the plane, and felt an embarrassed blush sweep across her tan cheeks.

"Oh!" She exclaimed feebly, looking back to the gentle-looking young man who had roused her from her sleep, "Je suis très désolé, je devine je me suis endormi, essayiez-vous d'obtenir par?" She smacked a hand over her mouth and laughed sheepishly, "Er, what I meant to say was—"

The boy cut her off suddenly, saying softly in perfect French, "C'est tout à fait bien. Je suis sûr que tout le monde a été après fatigué un tel vol long. Aucun besoin de s'inquiéter, j'ai voulu m'assurer juste que vous avez obtenu de l'avion sans accident."

Seychelles stared at him for what felt like half an hour, her jaw falling open with a soft "pop!", and then, once realizing that her reaction could be seen as incredibly offensive to the poor man, shut her mouth and replied, still shocked,

"Si je le prends vous êtes français aussi?"

The boy smiled delicately, and simply responded, "Oui." in a somewhat shy voice, and then seemed to drift past her politely, fading almost, onto the steps and out of the plane. Seychelles stared at the empty space he'd left for a long couple of minutes, surprised and rather confused at the same time, and felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Wordlessly, she grabbed her luggage and her laptop and stepped off the plane, walking out of the airport with long, fast strides and, once outside, breathed in the crisp London air.

She couldn't help it, couldn't hold it in any longer. Raising her arms to stretch as far to the sky as possible, she exclaimed with a big smile, "I'm in London, mother of miracles! Alright then…" She pulled out a crumpled-up sheet of paper from her jeans and studied it for a moment. "First thing to do is to find a place to spend the night. Adequate lodgings must be secured. Hmph!"

And with that, our dear heroine began her journey.

Five hours later, all the joy she'd displayed at finally arriving in London had dissolved, and the poor puzzled lodging manager was left with a very tired, frustrated Seychelles in front of him.

"Erm, how may I help you, miss—Eep!" The manager couldn't help but yelp out as Seychelles' firm hand gripped his shoulder, watching as she doubled over, soaking wet with rain, huffing from all the running she'd been doing for hours, breath ragged.

She swore briefly in French, trying to catch her breath, and managed to pant out, "Is… there… a room… I can rent… tonight?"

"Erm, yes." Said the manager, giving her all the standard information. After the girl paid, she stumbled up the stairs and over to room 24, letting out a tired groan and shutting the door. The manager was left standing in silence, wondering what had happened to the girl to make her that exhausted.

He never did get his answer. The next morning Seychelles woke up with a firm resolve and a determined gleam in her chocolate brown eyes. Rising from the creaky twin bed and stretching out her long arms and legs, she exited her room and walked hurriedly down the stairs, sweeping a discarded newspaper from the lodge's coffee table as she walked out the door.

It was time to find a place to live.

Groping around in her pocket for some cash, she stepped into a nearby coffee shop and ordered a large double double coffee and blueberry muffin, extracting enough loose change to pay for it and sit down at a lone table in the corner. The place was bustling with activity, and she smiled to herself. It was a nice kind of feeling, having all these people around. She was so used to it being just her and her grandfather a lot when she was a kid, so it was sort of refreshing to her. She took a nibble out of the muffin, spread the newspaper open on the small table and scanned its contents. Every so often in the middle of her highlighting spree she would gulp a shot of the hot coffee down, and then resume her work. When she was done, she had seventeen ads highlighted for rooms for rent in London. Finishing her muffin and licking her lips, she dumped her trash, pocketed the newspaper page, and exited the shop.

…Or that was the intention, anyway. Slamming into a flat chest on her way out, she observed in hindsight that looking right ahead of her would have been a much better method of walking. It took at least a minute before she realized that, upon bumping into the stranger, she hadn't fallen, as gravity would have forced her to do. Blinking confusedly with wide eyes, it was another thirty seconds before she realized that the person who she'd ran into had actually caught her before any public humiliation could occur. She felt hands on her shoulders, and felt a strange sense of deja-vu, except the hands today were steadying her, not nudging her, and the grip was a bit more firm.

"Are you alright, then?" Asked the blonde man in a nice British drawl, though Seychelles made no inclination of having heard him.

Staring up at the man, she was about to thank him, when her eyes zeroed in on something.

Or rather, _two_ somethings.

_Les grandes sourcils… _She thought in wonder, as she stared at the man's incredible, monstrous eyebrows for a long stretch of time. It was only when the man cleared his throat and stared at her with a blend of concern and befuddlement did she snap out of her daze, blushing furiously in embarrassment.

"Ou—Yes, I'm alright. Thank you so much, sorry." She said, firing the apologies and statements off in rapid succession, effectively finishing them all in one breath. As soon as she felt the warm hands leave her shoulders, she cried out, "G-Goodbye, then!" and booked it out of the coffee shop.

Arthur Kirkland just stood there for a long moment, face etched with confusion. "…Strange girl." He commented to no one in particular, and entered the coffee shop.

Meanwhile, Seychelles walked through the busy streets of London at a leisurely pace, stopping every so often to ask directions or admire a particularly lovely piece of architecture. Taking out the paper after about a half hour of walking, she double-checked the first address highlighted, smiled, walked up the steps and rung the doorbell.

An older gentleman answered the door with a polite smile and practised flourish, asking for her name and her reason for the visit.

"Good morning. I happened to come across your advertisement in the paper this morning for a rented room, and was wondering if I might be able to stay here?" She asked respectfully, stumbling over words nervously. She hoped it didn't seem a strange thing to do, just knock on a person's door and say it right off the bat like that.

The man gave no inclination of offence or surprise, so she assumed she hadn't said anything wrong, but then offered her an apologetic smile. "I'm very sorry, young miss, but I'm afraid someone else has visited sooner, so I don't have a room for you."

"Oh!" Said Seychelles in surprise, feeling, without need, like a fool. "Oh, I see, then. Thank you anyway. Have a nice day."

Unfourtunate.

Seychelles shook her head. She wasn't going to give up that easily. Fishing the paper back out of her pocket, she read the next address, hurried to it, and told herself that if she wanted good things to happen, she had to believe that good things would happen. Several hours later, however, she felt herself thinking that that homey advice was a load of bullshit. Every address she tried was a bust. Feeling rather hopeless, she sat down on a nearby bench, sighed heavily, and balanced her cheeks in her palms, closing her eyes. Things just didn't seem to be getting off to a very good start. As if accentuating this point, rain began to fall; first lightly, then with a vengeance, all in the space of a few short minutes. Thunder thumped in the distance and lightning flashed dangerously on the horizon, and Seychelles couldn't help but feel like God had just kicked her in the face with steel-toed boots.

"Oh, _come on_!" She screamed at the sky, startling innocent passerby with her incredulous outburst. She saw from the corner of her eye that they began to walk faster. She heaved another sigh, feeling her lower lip trembling. Damn hormones.

Suddenly, she heard an amused giggle from behind her, and turned, mortified, to come face to face with a tall brunette woman who held a secret mischief in her green eyes.

"Hi there." Said the woman in a singsong voice, holding up a hand and wiggling her thin fingers at Seychelles in a friendly greeting.

_Oh wow, she's so pretty…_ The island girl found herself thinking in wonder, staring up at the smiling woman before her. "H-hello…" She stammered out, in a daze. _Like really, __**really**_ _pretty…_

The woman smiled cheerfully. "So what's a young lady like yourself doing standing out in the rain? You'll catch a cold if you keep this up, you know." She chided gently, opening up an umbrella. "Come with me."

Seychelles stared at her with wide eyes as if she were a spectacle, feeling the rain cease to beat at her head as the woman stepped closer to her and sheltered them both under the umbrella. Seychelles tried to remember, tried to remember all the times her grandfather had warned her against talking to strangers, against taking offers from strangers, against walking alone with strangers, but unconsciously disregarded them as quickly as they had popped into her head. For some unexplainable, intangible reason, Seychelles felt a firm impression that this woman was okay, safe. And for that vague reason, Seychelles smiled, nodded thankfully, and followed the woman into the dark, cloudy afternoon.

Maybe things were looking up…

Or maybe… not…

"Welcome back, Mistress!" Chimed what seemed like a small army of frilly maid costume-clad girls, smiling charmingly at the woman Seychelles had been duped into thinking was, god forbid, actually _normal_.

Seychelles' lips twitched at smiling fakely for so long. It took everything she had not to book it out the front door, screaming about strange women with maid-fetishes and umbrella-induced-hypnosis. "U-Um, excuse me…?"

"Oh! Elizabeta, who's the girl you brought with you? Is the Monaco's replacement?" Asked a shyly smiling girl with short, platinum-blond hair and the hugest breasts Seychelles had ever laid eyes upon in her lifetime.

_D-D-Dynamite boobs…_ Seychelles thought, stricken, suddenly feeling very small and inadequate in comparison. Looking up confusedly as the green-eyed woman with the umbrella, Elizabeta, rested her hand on Seychelles' head, mussing her hair affectionately a little. She blushed slightly. She really was beautiful, if not a bit shady.

Seeing Seychelles looking at her, Elizabeta gave a scheming, almost catlike grin, and replied cheerfully, "Sure is! Just picked the poor thing off the street, from the looks of it had nowhere to go, so…"

"N-no! That's not it, not at all! I-I'm not homeless or anything, I was just out for a walk!" Seychelles said defensively, feeling a bit ashamed of herself. Really, she waltzed right into this situation without a second thought, following a stranger to such a strange place… Foolish. Her grandpa would have scolded her silly for it.

"Well, yes, but…" Elizabeta said, and, still grinning widely, gestured to the newspaper page with a flourish. "You are looking for a place to stay, aren't you?"

Seychelles didn't say a word, fearing that one wrong word that fell from her lips would land her in a god-awful position. Saying nothing didn't work, though, seeing as Elizabeta seemed to take her silence as an affirmative.

"Well, my dear, this is your lucky day! You see, as it turns out, since one of my employees, Monaco, left just a few days ago, I have a lovely room above the shop for renting! How about it?"

Seychelles gaped at her. A room. A room. A goddamn room. The thing that she'd been searching ever-so-desperately for this entire day, and here it was, being delivered to her ever-so-nonchalantly. …By the owner of a maid café, no less. Could things get any more ridiculous today? Seychelles hoped not.

There had to be a catch.

"How… How much does the room cost?" Seychelles asked cautiously, feeling very much like a tightrope walker on a slippery string.

Elizabeta smiled. "Including the costs of use of appliances, the bathroom, and electricity, it would all add up to a tidy little sum of 195 pounds a month."

If Seychelles had a drink, she'd have spat it across the room by now. Doing the mental calculations in her head, she surmised that there was no way that she could live more than three weeks in that room with the money she'd saved up after spending most of it on her college fund, and there was no part-time job that could accommodate her everyplace class schedule and _still_ earn enough to pay the rent. Elizabeta must have seen her flabbergasted expression, since she smiled kindly and said,

"You know… If you worked part-time here after your classes, I'd be willing to down the price to accommodate your budget."

The pigtailed girl's eyes widened. "E-Eh?"

"If you work here during the week part-time, then you can have the room. Just let me know what your schedule is, and we can work the hours out. I'm willing to compromise if you are."

"Y-You… Actually would let me stay in the room if I work here…?" Seychelles asked, slack-jawed.

"Of course. It seems like a good deal, doesn't it? No one has to pay so much rent if we have another person pooling in, I get the room occupied, I get a new employee to replace the old one, and you have a place to stay. Seems reasonable enough to me." The older woman said with a big smile, thrusting out her hand to Seychelles. "So, how 'bout it, deal?"

"…" There it was again. That strong feeling that this woman was safe, not dangerous, kind, not cruel, friendly, not shady. Her hand moved on its own, closing the distance between Elizabeta's palm and her own.

"Then it's a deal." Said Elizabeta. "If you can get me a copy of your schedule, you start tomorrow."

"Okay…" She replied, still a bit overwhelmed. A sudden thought occurred to her. "Oh! But wait… How did you know that… I attended classes…?"

Elizabeta stared at her blankly, then burst out laughing. "Why, doesn't every high school girl? Ah, hey, why are you so depressed-looking all of the sudden?"

Seychelles patted at her chest. "I'm average, okay? I'm average…" She mumbled, moping. "And I'm a college student, not a high school one…"

"Oh, really? Sorry, honey! You just—well, you'll hold out better than the rest of us in old age, that's a perk, now isn't it?" Said Elizabeta with nervous cheerfulness, tittering this and that to try to make the small tan girl feel better about her, erm, slight womanly deficiencies.

Seychelles pouted. "Sorry I can't be miss Dynamite-Boobs over there…"

"Eh?" Said the busty Katyusha in shock, turning a bright pink.

"Huh? Oh crap, did I say that out loud?"

Elizabeta just smiled amusedly. "Oh yeah, we're going to get along just fine."

**HOLY TEN PAGES LONG, BATMAN. :O**

**Chill out, people, we will get to some romance yet. And also will introduce Matt and Romano to the main storyline, so don't you fret. But otherwise, how did you like this chapter? It's our first time writing anything hetalia-related, so we want your input! Did we keep everyone enough in character? (Though since Seychelles is a rather minor character, does she even have one? Ahaha… XD;;) Also, there will be **_**tons**_** of love triangles/ love rivals in this fanfiction yet to come! Also, see if you can guess the stranger Seychelles met on the plane. (It shouldn't be too hard to guess.) If you get it right, we'll give you a shout-out in the next pre-chapter note!~**

**Here's the French translation for their conversation, by the way:**

**"I'm very sorry, I guess I fell asleep, were you trying to get by?"**

**"It's quite alright. I'm sure everyone was tired after such a long flight. No need to worry, I just wanted to make sure you got off the plane safely."**

**"So I take it you're French as well?"**

"**Yes."**

_**Giant eyebrows…**_


	2. Chapter 2: Exhaustion

**Wh-what just happened we don't even… Asjgadgg—thanks for the reviews and all the alerts/faves/subscriptions! You guys are splendiferous, and for that, you get a new chapter!~**

**-Miharu and Mitsuki**

Chapter Two: Exhaustion

"I've got the box you were talking about. Where do you want me to put it?"

"Oh! Thanks, sorry, sorry! You really don't have to help me out, Miss Héderváry. I'm sure you've got better things to do…"

"It's alright, I'd like to help you out. It looks like a little too much work for one li—for one girl." Elizabeta corrected herself midway through the sentence, careful not to send the girl into another spiralling depression about her youthful appearance. Hauling three suitcases stacked on top of each other with apparent ease, she smiled reassuringly at Seychelles. "I've gotta make sure my new employee is all ready and moved in before she starts working tomorrow, now don't I?"

"Oh…" Seychelles paused over the box she'd just rested on the floor, looking over at Elizabeta. Her face broke out into a smile. "I see. Thanks very much."

Elizabeta made a small, "erk!"ing sound, groping the air with her fingers, and Seychelles could have sworn she heard the woman say something along the lines of, "This girl, I swear…" under her breath, and then something about a "type", whatever that meant. She seemed to be a bit overexcited about something. Seychelles sweatdropped.

About thirty minutes later, Elizabeta had to go back down to the restaurant to oversee things and make sure that everything was going all right. With a loud thank-you, Seychelles finished hauling up her things and began to unpack, absentmindedly churning up a hummed tune of her own imagination with a silly little smile playing on the corners of her mouth. The smile grew even wider as she lifted out of one of the hefty suitcases a large tuna plush toy that she'd gotten when she was younger. She felt her eyes water a little bit, and couldn't help but feel a wave of homesickness wash over her as she hugged it tightly to her chest.

"It's been a long time… since I last saw him. I wonder… What's he like now?" She said idly, wiping gently at her dark brown eyes. She set the stuffed fish down on the twin bed. She looked at the clock. It was nine in the evening. Time seemed to have gone so quickly in the later part of today that it seemed not to have happened at all. Looking sideways at her remaining luggage to be unpacked, Seychelles decided, quite simply, that she wouldn't unpack any more tonight.

_Yeah, because_…She thought, flopping lazily down on the bed, holding the plush toy tight to her chest. _I already have what I need… Right… here…_

And with those parting words, Seychelles' eyes closed, and she felt herself being quickly seduced by the sandman.

"…_Mon petite poisson…"_

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Seychelles groaned, rolled over face first into her pillow and attempted to smother herself with it in defiance. A rebellion, yes, a rebellion. She would wage war, that's what she would do. Wage war against that—

Beep! Beeeeepppppp! Beeeeeep!

-Incessant beeping stinging in her ears, and—

Beep! Beeeep! Beep!

-Win that war and sleep as much as she wanted…

Beep! Beep! Beeep!

Seychelles sent a well-aimed pillow at the alarm clock, quieting its irritating ring somewhat.

B—p! B—p! B—p!

She moaned angrily, pushed her body upwards with both palms, and stared at the alarm clock visiously, as if to say, _"This is all _your_ fault."_ Though it didn't respond, the islander girl could have sworn on her life that it was mocking her, just sitting there all innocent-like with its stupid—

B—p! B—p! B—p!

-bleeping and flashing.

"Arghhh!" She grunted, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, flipping her legs off the bed and standing up to stretch her muscles. "I get it already, shut up!" She slammed her palm down on the sleep button and stumbled almost drunkenly over to her pile of suitcases.

"Now, lessee…" she muttered, digging through the poorly folded clothes for a suitable outfit to wear for her first day. Her heart thrummed both excitedly and nervously, the two emotions that frequently kept the same company for her. She caught herself wondering how long she had been like that, hot and cold as she was. "Oh, here we go." She said, pulling out a long, almost dress-length ocean blue shirt with puffy sleeves and a pair of dark jeans. Hopping around from foot to foot, the stripped down and changed into the clothes, hastily pulling on a pair of socks while looking apprehensively at the clock, almost trying to will it to let the time slow down for her convenience. In response, time only seemed to speed up. She groaned again, yanked a brush through her tangled hair, and pulled it into two twin pigtails with her signature red bows. In a rush, she only had enough time to slap some lipgloss on her slightly chapped lips, grab her materials, throw them halfhazardly into her canvas bag, then bound down the stairs, wave goodbye to Elizabeta, and sprint out the door as if it was the end of the world.

Seychelles raced through the long, crowded halls of curious onlookers in a blind panic and slammed open the door a bit too loudly, huffing and panting as if she'd just run the hundred-metre dash with asthma. She managed to make it just in time to find a seat in her new classroom, fix her stare fixedly down at the desk, face burning with mortification, and regain normal use of her lungs before the teacher strolled in casually and began the lesson in art history.

He was a tall, well-built man with dark hair and golden-brown eyes, a light sprinkling of hair on his chin and a warm, attractive smile on his face. "Good morning, good morning, everybody! Look at all the cute girls in this class, huh? My name is—well, just call me Rome, yes? Work hard and produce many good works, we will have no problems with each other!" He said jovially, a deep, wonderful laugh from his throat making many of the girls in the room feel heat rush to their faces. "So, let's start the lesson, yes?"

Despite the fact that Seychelles had never really liked the art history portion of her arts education throughout high school, somehow this new teacher, "Rome", seemed to catch her attention and keep it for the length of the entire class. She sat in rapt attention, jotting down notes and nodding fascinated. Something about the way the man talked was just so interesting and fresh, and Seychelles soon noticed that most of the students seemed to feel the same way, as she looked around the large class to see the same expressions of deep concentration on many a classmate's face. In fact, she would have gone so far as to claim that everyone seemed almost disappointed when the class was over and they had to leave, a few of them even nodding a goodbye to the teacher good-naturedly.

Collecting her things and starting to walk towards the door, not wanting to be late, she mustered up the courage to call a somewhat quiet, "Bye, sir." Before running like mad, embarrassed. Oh God, she hoped she wasn't getting one of those little-schoolgirl-crushes on a teacher.

The rest of the day, however, was free of any out-of-the-ordinary fantasies about her teachers. In fact, Seychelles found that it was impossible to daydream at all. Sometimes the lesson was just too interesting, sometimes it was just too full-to-the-breaking-point of information that she couldn't let her writing hand go slack for even a moment. She was filled with the urge to take down each important point, try each strange technique discussed, paint everything she could, to leave her mark on the map. And screw everyone if they thought that was impossible, because she was going to do it. She left the school with newfound determination that those stupid websites had previously washed away for weeks on end.

And then she realized.

"Seychelles, darling~ Welcome baccckkkk!~ I've got the cutest little maid outfit for you on your first dayyyy!~" 

…that starting today, she'd be starting at the (somewhat crazy) new landlady's restaurant.

The (somewhat crazy) new landlady's _maid-café-esque _restaurant.

Oh boy.

"Um, will it fit, though…? Ahahaa," The island girl said with a nervous laugh, face turning somewhat pale while secretly praying to every God she'd ever heard of that the ridiculous outfit did _not_, in fact, fit her.

Elizabeta waved her off. "Of course, hon! I'm a master at eyeballing measurements! Yours were easy.~ Now, here you are. There's a restroom you can change in by the emergency exit.~"

"Oh. Yaaayy…" She said lacklustrely, and, stomach turning slightly at the humiliation, she trudged, head bowed down to the floor, to the change room, to put on the otaku-inspired monstrosity.

"Miss Héderváry…?" She called out uncertainly, feeling like an idiot. She hoped no one else was in the bathroom to see her, in this humiliating costume, ear pressed to the door for signs of people passing by.

"Yeeeess?~" Came the cheery, almost sly, reply to her in hushed tones, and she could hear the older woman giggle under her breath. "Well, does it fit?~"

"Yeah, but…" Seychelles paused to yank her skirt down and her stockings up, trying to hide as much of her tanned skin as possible. This was nerve-wracking. Mortifying, even. Attempting to keep her voice even, she asked, quite plainly, "Can't I… Do a job that doesn't require this… costume?" She struggled for the right words, and was close to thinking that the woman had left, when suddenly the door was swung open, revealing her in all her maid-outfitted glory, facing a deviously grinning Elizabeta, who looked just a little too pleased by her horrified expression to be considered normal.

"But why? It looks cute on you, and besides, I've been trying to find your type for agesss~"

"Type…?" Seychelles laughed nervously again. What was this woman saying…?

Swinging a heavy-duty frying pan through the air like a batter who just hit a home run, Elizabeta grinned, winked, and struck a pose, saying in the most elated of voices, "The refreshing island girl type!~" She sighed dreamily, "Ah, finally, the cast is complete…~"

Seychelles suddenly stopped laughing, and shivered at the appraising look Elizabeta was giving her. There was no way in hell that woman was letting her get out of this ridiculous outfit. She was screwed. Forget the alarm clock, this enemy was much, much scarier, and she had a frying pan.

"Now I won't make you a door greeter today," Said Elizabeta, "You can just take orders and clear the tables when the guests leave. Around this time is pretty slow, since it's only three o'clock. We only have two guests here at the moment, and they've already been served, so I'll introduce you to everyone, alright?~"

She flashed one of those pretty, sparkling smiles, and Seychelles was powerless to protest. Elizabeta took her hand and led her to the front of the restaurant, calling out,

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet our newest coworker!~ Be nice to her, okay?" There was a chorus of "Yes, ma'am!" in reply, and Elizabeta bent down to whisper to Seychelles, smile ever-present on her face, "Time for introductions~"

"Right. Um, well… Bonjou—Hi. My name's Seychelles, and I just came to England a few days ago. I, er, look forward to working with you." She said, awkward and stiff. She sucked at introductions.

To sum it all up, the maid-outfit-wearing employees were the following: the busty Katyusha, whom Seychelles had already personally nicknamed "dynamite boobs" for reference, since her name was difficult, Lilly, a small girl with a ribbon in her hair who seemed to have (thankfully for her own womanly pride) even less of a chest than Seychelles herself, Bella, a cheerful blonde girl with a bold red headband in her hair, Natalia, an ice-queen type of girl who seemed disconcertingly preoccupied fiddling with one table's silverware (in particular the knives), MeiMei, an energetic Taiwanese girl who had a few pretty, fragrant blossoms strung through her hair, and her friend, Hong Hanh, an apparent Vietnamese girl with a quiet, distant and reserved personality.

Summing it up neatly, her new boss spoke. "And I, as you know, am Elizabeta. Now, come, I have to introduce you to the kitchen staff. Keep up the good work, everyone.~" Said Elizabeta, taking Seychelles' hand again, guiding her through the kitchen doors. "Everyone! We have fresh meat starting today, so introduce yourselves!~"

The kitchen staff included a reserved, soft-spoken Japanese boy named Kiku, a lively Chinese guy with the most incredibly oversized sleeves on his shirt she'd ever seen, a guy from the Netherlands who was too occupied trying to make the kitchen counter spotless to introduce himself, and a cute, pouting Italian boy with an armful of tomatoes called Romano. Elizabeta hurriedly explained that since she was the sole proprietor of this restaurant, she had limited funds and therefore the number of employees was strictly maintained. She apparently couldn't afford many more than the current amount. She didn't seem too bothered by it, though. She said she liked to think of these people as her family, and, now that Seychelles was a part of this makeshift family, she could always call on Elizabeta for a favour, no matter what. Seychelles felt a growing feeling of admiration swell up in her chest. She found this woman, strange and mysterious as she was, absolutely incredible, and hell if she wasn't going to give it her all, for Elizabeta's sake.

And so, Seychelles' first day of work began…

...And ended like a punch in the gut…

Collapsing into a chair like the living dead the moment the restaurant closed, Seychelles attempted to regain her breath and pull the elasticy feeling of everlasting smiling off her face.

"Hey, honey, ya doin' okay?" Asked Bella cheerfully, wearing the ever-present, catlike grin on her face. She'd changed after her shift, a wise idea, Seychelles thought, though she hadn't the slightest clue how in the world the Belgian could still have so much energy after hours of being leered at, smiling and serving with such a cheerful, polite attitude, and she sure as hell envied it right now.

"Yeah, just a bit tired, is all…" She laughed nervously, wincing as her toes cracked when she attempted to wiggle them. Those mary-janes sure were tight! How could all the other girls be on their feet, probably all day, with those things on and not feel like their toes were about to fall off?

Bella snickered at her facial expression. "A little bit of culture shock, huh?" She guessed, and the island girl nodded, caught. "Don't worry, it happened to all of us when we first started. I know for a fact that Katyusha used to burst into tears every day after a shift, and Lilly would even pass out sometimes! Haha!" That was funny…? Seychelles shook her head, puzzled. The people around here sure were weird. She felt a hand smack just a bit too roughly on her head and muss her hair affectionately. She looked up at a grinning Bella.

"Don't worry, kiddo. You'll get used to it in no time, and you're doing pretty well, all things considered."

"Not really…" Seychelles muttered, recalling the several trips she'd had and the stumbling over words and the awkward smiles…

"Trust me, darling, if you didn't have what it took, the boss lady wouldn't have given you such a sweet deal." Bella rested her hands on her hips now, a big grin on her face, and exclaimed, "Keep doing what you're doing and you'll get on just fine! That's a promise!" She winked.

"…Thanks, Bella." Seychelles said, a slow smile spreading onto her face.

"No problem! As the boss lady said, you're part of the family now, and family helps each other! Just give big sis Bella a call if you need anything, m'kay?"

"…Yeah…" Seychelles smiled widely, the blonde's grin seemingly contagious. "I will, thanks!"

"Sure—Ah, crap! Is it that time already? Sorry, but I've gotta book it! Let's talk tomorrow, okay?" The blonde-haired girl said, adjusting her headband and dashing off in a panic.

"Yeah, let's…" Said Seychelles only long after she'd gone, settling into the chair with a warm smile on her face. _Hey, grandpa, _she thought, _it turns out there's hope for me, yet… I've got a family now._

**Gah! Sorry for the romance-less chapter! (And also the lack of Matthew and lack of role for Romano! DX We promise, the next chapter will be more exciting, so please just hold tight! We're still trying to find our bearings for this, and we wanted to develop some more friend-relationships with Seychelles before we just threw her into all the drama… XD**

**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! Ciao for now!**


	3. Chapter 3: Agreements

**Wootwoot! And as the two Seychelles-centric chapters scoot over for this third in our little story, we hope you'll rejoice along with us as our dear syrup-loving Canadian protagonist Matthew Williams takes the stage! Enjoy!**

**-Miharu and Mitsuki**

Chapter Three: Agreements

At times like this, Matthew Williams caught himself thinking that he really, _really_…

"YO! MATTTAYYYY! THE HERO HAS ARRIVED!"

…_hated_ his goddamn life.

"Al…" Matthew said, heaving a small sigh while attempting to push himself up on the couch in which he had (just moments previously) been sleeping peacefully. "I don't mean to be rude, eh, but… _why the hell are you in my house_?"

Alfred rocked back and forth on his heels, recognizing the irked tone. Putting on the cutesiest face he could muster, he smiled, batted his eyelashes, and said cheerily, "Did I wake you?~"

"Maple—Yes, Al, yes you did." Matt groaned, pushing his face into a pillow, hoping that this was all just some messed up nightmare or memory. Unfortunately, as he was now feeling a sharp pain in his back due to something heavy being placed upon it, the guy promptly realized that this meeting was nothing of the sort. "Al, get off me. You're heavy." He whined sleepily into the pillow.

"But why? We're bros, Mattie, and this is what bros do."

"Sit on each other?"

"Bond.~" Alfred said happily, reaching from the remote and turning the volume to max on some shitty music channel. "Ho damn, this song! LIKE A G-6 FUCK YES!"

Matthew groaned. "You suck, Al."

"I've been told I do it well." Alfred said, and when Matthew looked up in horror he saw Alfred waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ugh, Al…!"

"Tellin' it like it is, bro. Now get up. I wants me some pancakes."

"Happy to see you after two weeks of separation, too, Al." Said Matthew sarcastically, giving his twin brother a deadpan stare before burying his face in the couch again. "And make your own damn pancakes."

"I can'tttt!" Alfred whined with his best puppy dog pout.

Matthew was not amused by this bullshit. "And why not, eh?"

"Because I am not a woman, and therefore do _not_ belong in the kitchen, and therefore cannot make pancakes, as it is the type of food that is made _in the kitchen_." His brother explained in a knowing tone, adding grandiose hand gestures to emphasize the point he was making.

Matthew picked it up loud and clear. "Are you implying that I am a woman?" He asked, irritated.

"Not _implying_, my dear Mattie, never _implying_. Now get back in the kitchen and make me a sammich!"

"I thought I was making pancakes."

"Glad to hear you're gonna make 'em for me, little bro."

Matthew grumbled some curses darkly into his confidant, the pillow, heaved Alfred off of him with (a hell of a lot of) effort, and stumbled over to the kitchen, ignoring Alfred's smug "woop-woop!"s along the way with some difficulty. He stared over at the time on the microwave, and his jaw popped open, a very annoyed look coming across his face. Reminding himself that he was the _nice, polite, quiet_ one, he managed to put on a polite smile as he turned to his older-by-four-minutes brother, who was currently reclining lazily in _his_ couch watching _his_ tv, and said softly,

"Alfred Jones… Do you have any idea what time it is, eh?"

"Hm? Nope."

"Really, now?" His smile turned forcefully passive now, "Because something tells me that _normal people_ do not somehow break into their brother's houses at _5 in the morning _when they should both still be_ sleeping _like_ normal people_."

Alfred simply laughed, shushed him, and turned back to the obnoxious rap music video on the tv screen with a fixated, childlike expression of wonder. Matthew heaved a long, hearty sigh, combed his fingers through his wavy blonde hair and turned on his heel, standing on his tippy-toes to find the pancake mix. _Stupid brother…_ He thought angrily, pouting as he dumped the mix into a bowl and began to prepare it. _What did I do to deserve this? Really, how inconsiderate…_ And as he continued to fume and his brother continued to be his normal, obnoxious self, the phone rang in the most irritating of ways. So poor Matthew, pouting still after noticing that Alfred, despite his lack of a busy schedule and the phone in the living room placed _directly beside him_, hastened to wipe his hands on the apron he'd halfhazardly thrown on and walked over to the phone.

"Hello, eh?" He said in his normal polite tone, hoping it wasn't one of Alfred's obnoxious friends calling his number instead of his brother's one again. (And honestly, why did that keep happening? It wasn't like their phone numbers were anything alike, and even if one was to look in the phonebook, the surnames "Williams" and "Jones" were quite a ways away from each other in the directory.)

"Hi, Matvey. It's Katyusha calling." Said the ever-nervous, kind voice of his Ukrainian friend over the speaker. Matthew could practically picture her fidgeting anxiously, and there was a long stretch of silence before she spoke again, this time much less certainly, "Oh!" She cried in realization, "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was this early in the morning before just now! I'm really sorry, I'll call back later, I—"

Matthew laughed. "No really, it's fine, eh. Don't worry about it, I was up already when you called." _Making my stupid brother his pancakes… _He thought with a sour frown, shooting Al a look that his brother, ever oblivious, missed entirely. He quickly smiled again, realizing that Katyusha surely didn't mean any harm by calling him, and most certainly was nowhere near as obnoxious as his brother. In fact, she wasn't obnoxious at all. She was actually really nice, though she did have quite the problem with anxiety…

"Oh…" She said softly, sounding unsure. "…Are you certain? I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, Matvey…"

"It's fine, Katyusha." Matthew said kindly, his voice just as quiet to prevent Alfred from hearing him and teasing him about talking to girls again. "So, um, did you need something?"

"Ah, well, that's just it… Erm…" Katyusha stammered fretfully, and it took several reassurances from Matthew that he 'wasn't bothered at all by her calling, honest' before she spoke up. "Well… You know the restaurant I work in? Um, well, recently we began offering breakfast selections, but… Well… The chefs Miss Héderváry has employed right now aren't really… I mean, they're very skilled, but… Oh dear, I don't want to say it that way… And the one who used to make the breakfasts can only do it on weekends now… Which is… What I mean to say is…"

"So your boss needs someone to come in during the weekdays to cook the breakfast items?" Matthew helpfully supplied for her, and Katyusha exclaimed her agreement with this statement in relief that he had figured it out.

"Yes! Exactly, Matvey. And, er, well, I was wondering… Since I remember that you're very good at making pancakes and omlettes and the like… Well, that is to say, I know I shouldn't have without your permission, but, I remember you saying your job didn't pay very well, and with your skills and this convienient opportunity… And since the wages are pretty good here… I sort of… ReccomendedyoutomybossI'msosorry!" She finished all in one breath tearfully, sniffling and whimpering uncertainly. She must have reckoned Matthew would be angry at her for it, for some reason.

"Really?" Asked Matthew in wonder, certainly not angry, "Whoa, thanks a bunch, Katyusha, you really stuck your neck out for me, eh?" He smiled widely. "As long as it's the common sorts of breakfast, like omelettes and pancakes and such…Well, if your boss thinks I'm qualified enough, I'd be glad to help you out."

"R-really? Oh, thank you so much, Matvey!" Katyusha cried in extreme relief. There was a pause, where the Canadian could hear the Ukrainian girl tell something to someone else, a woman, most likely her boss, and she got back on the line with a happy reply, "Miss Héderváry says that, if it's convenient for you, you can start immediately, or tomorrow, if that's better for you… Starting at seven and ending at noon… Is that okay?" She sounded uncertain again.

Matthew smiled again. Really, she didn't have to be so apprehensive of him. Besides, they were friends. "Sure thing, but I'm the one who should be thanking you a bunch, Katyusha. As for the hours, they sound good, since they don't even conflict with my other job schedule, so I can start immediately. If you could pass that on to your boss—Miss Héderváry, was it?—I'd appreciate it."

"Oh! Thank you so much, Matvey! You're so nice! I'll see you in a bit, then! Bye, thank you!"

"Sure thing. Thank _you._ See you soon." Said Matthew, and hung up.

"Yo, bro, who was that? And are my pancakes done yet?"

Matthew sighed at the sound of his twin's voice, and pasted on a patient smile. "It was Katyusha, and no, it's only been ten minutes and I haven't even poured the mix in the pan yet."

"Katwhatya? Oh, you mean that chick with the huge ass tits?" Alfred asked crudely, and Matthew slammed both palms down on the counter, eyes wide, cheeks red and expression horrified.

"AL! You're disgusting!"

"Psh, what'chu talkin' bout, Williams? It's the truth innit?" Alfred said, shrugging with a casual smile. Upon seeing the disgusted expression his little brother shot at him, he pouted, retreating from battle. "A'ight, a'ight, chillax, bro. So what'd she want?"

"Her boss needs someone to make the breakfasts for her restaurant, so Katyusha recommended me." Matthew shrugged, pouring the fresh pancake batter into the pan, unable to fight off the pleased smile.

Katyusha was really such a sweet girl. She almost always remembered him and was nice to him, and the former was saying a lot. For some reason, it seemed Matthew Williams had not inherited his brother's charming, attention-whore genes and instead faded into the background. His name and face were easily forgotten and sometimes seemed to vanish altogether. The scent of finished pancakes reached Matthew's nose, and, after whipping up a few more, he dumped them onto two plates and brought one over to all, dousing it in maple syrup. Without even a simple thank-you, Alfred begun to eat like a pig. Matthew sighed. Couldn't he be even the least bit courteous?

_Oh well…_ He thought to himself, dumping what could only be called a hearty sum of syrup (nearly half the full bottle!) onto his pancakes. Making haste to cut them up, he smiled wide as his fork slid out of his mouth, chewing. _Maple syrup will surely bring happiness to those who use it!_ An odd train of thought, but it often came up during one of the somewhat timid Canadian's breakfast.

Matthew raised an eyebrow at his older brother as said man quickly finished the pancakes and propped his feet up on the counter, leaning back in his chair somewhat dangerously. Really, was it so impossible for him to take the time to _taste_ his food? Matthew sighed as he himself finished the breakfast, and glanced at the clock. It was now 6:10 am. He hadn't realized how much time he'd killed simply eating.

_Must be how Al feels every day…_ Thought Matthew wryly, hopping into a standing position by resting his palms on the table and pushing off. If it was ten after six now, and the restaurant was twenty minutes away walking-distance, he reckoned he had just enough time to get dressed, take Kuma-whatsit out for a walk, bring his pet back to the house and take a leisurely stroll down to his new place of employment.

Of course, that also meant that he had to find some way to get Al to leave, and a simple hint-hint-nudge-nudge tactic just wouldn't do; Alfred F Jones was no connoisseur of subtlety. Quickly recalculating in his head, he sighed. No time to walk Kumakuma, then.

"Hey, Al? I have to be at work in about half an hour or so, so could you do me a big favour and lock up when you leave?" Matthew asked tentatively. It wasn't much, but…

It was something.

"Yeah, I guess The Hero can do his little brother a favour." Said Al grandly, as if Matthew had asked him on some outrageous adventure. He walked over to Matthew and ruffled his hair affectionately, grinning at the small shriek of surprise the shorter man let out as he did.

And shocked Matthew Williams was. For Alfred F Jones, headstrong bonehead extraordinaire, agreeing to something, anything, without any refusal or rebuttal whatsoever was unimaginable. Matthew treated this as the astonishing work of some well-earned karma payoff.

He smiled appreciatively up (though the thought that he had to crane his neck _far_ too much to see his _twin_ brother's face irked him somewhat) at Alfred, saying a warm, "Thanks, bro" before rushing off to change clothes. Ten minutes later, our short, Canadian main character was walking a steady pace down the street, taking in the early-morning London sights as he passed by.

Though early, the streets were bustling with activity. Excitable children shrieked and ran about playfully, ignorant to the careful, worried watch of their mothers, wealthy businessmen hailed cabs while talking in a self-important way into their cell phones, chattering shoppers walked towards the nearest bus stop or shopping area for early-morning browsing, teenagers moaned and groaned and griped about homework, their backpacks bogged down with many a heavy textbook. He smiled to himself, humming a little tune he'd just remembered from his childhood, pushing his glasses—which had by now been long since sliding down his nose—to shield his eyes at least somewhat from the beginnings of a flaming orange sun on the horizon.

The day as a whole had already gotten off to a good start; delicious pancakes in the morning, a cooperative brother, a job offer… Yeah, things were going to go well, he just knew it!

"Alfred! It _is_ you, you stupid sonofabitch!"

Or maybe… not.

"Maple!" Canada exclaimed in pain as an all-too-familiar pony tailed Cuban man began to fiercely karate-chop the back of his head.

"Thought you could get away with what you did, huh, you rat bastard? I don't think so!" Yelled the tan man angrily as he continued to smack the Canadian upside the head and yell foreign curse words at regular intervals.

"Maple—ow! I-I understand if you're mad—ow!—but I'm honestly—maple!—_I'm not Alfred, I'm Matthew_!" Following that, there was a deafening silence.

"Um… Who?" Asked Cuba blankly, causing Matthew to inwardly fume as he rubbed the back of his head. Trying to stay pleasant, Canada replied with an even tone and a polite smile.

"My name is Matthew Williams, not Alfred Jones. I'm Alfred's brother. I'm sorry, but you've got the wrong guy. And also…" His violet eyes stared straight into the Cuban's, a pout growing on his face, "…We're friends, aren't we, Carlos?"

"Oh… Oh!" The Cuban, Carlos, gasped in realization, jumping slightly. His expression turned gentle and apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry, Matt! I didn't realize… I mean, you guys just look so alike, but…! Agh, sorry, I'm such a jerk, of course you're not that ass!"

Matthew smiled, sweatdropping slightly. "It's alright, Carlos. I'm not mad. Just try to remember next time, eh?" He looked at a nearby clock, then turned to Cuba and quickly explained, "Anyway, I've got to go, sorry. I've got a job to go to. We should hang out later, eh?"

Then, waving goodbye, he sprinted the rest of the way over to the restaurant, and introduced himself to Elizabeta, gulping nervously as the woman began by examining him critically and then laughing darkly and ominously, her narrowed, glinting emerald eyes meeting his wide purple ones. After a long stretch of silence and a quick interview, his new boss, Elizabeta, handed him an apron, introduced him to the staff, then took him aside and whispered slyly to him,

"You know, if you wanted a better wage, I could also have you serving in the afternoon. I'm sure you'd look excellent in a maid costume." Was it just his imagination, or did her eyes just glint dangerously?

"M-M-Miss Elizabeta, I-I-I'm a boy!" Matthew stammered in bewilderment and embarrassment at what his imagination was churning out to him at the moment.

Her reply, however, was simple and cryptic. She smirked, then said, "Yes, and that just makes it all the more thrilling and forbidden!~ Kukuku…~" before shoving him off into the kitchen.

This was certainly going to be an interesting day, Matthew thought with a sweatdrop, excited, nervous and sort of scared all at the same time. He tied his apron tightly, rolled up his sleeves and smiled. _But oh well, a little excitement makes things fun, right?_ He thought optimistically, repeating it over and over again like a mantra as each new order came in. Excitement makes things fun, all right, but maybe this was a bit more than poor Matthew Williams bargained for. Not that he knew at the time, but things were about to take a turn, and his quiet, forgotten life was about to be flipped into unknown territory.His train of thought was shattered, however, when he heard a loud, self-confident voice yell,

"THE AWESOME HAS ARRIVED! KESESE, BOW TO MY GREATNESS, FOR I COME HERE SEEKING BREAKFAST!"

Shortly thereafter, there was the disconcerting sound of a metal frying pan connecting with a human skull, a soft "hmph!" of disapproval and the stifled giggles of what had to be half a dozen amused onlookers.

**Ohmai. Now whoever could that mysterious stranger of mystery be? Come on, it can't be too hard to guess. Anyhow, as always, we ask that you fav/alert/subscribe/review! Especially review! We love 'em!~**

**-Miharu and Mitsuki**


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